Per Vultas Vas
by FoundersChosen
Summary: Prophecies are tricky things, you know. And when those in power decide to play it safe rather than take action, two girls who were left out for their own safety find a way to make it interesting: by strolling right into a world long thought fiction. Oops?
1. i: Concerning Fanfiction

_**Disclaimer: **__We don't own anything related to Harry Potter, that belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and her cronies. We do own all original characters (mainly Bridget Griffins, Kagumi Pheonix, Raminus Slytherin, and Cordan Gryffindor) as well as all original interpretations of canon and the prose itself._

**Story Summary: **Prophecies can be tricky things. When those in power decide to play it safe rather than take action, two girls left out for their own safety find their own way to change their destiny: by strolling right into a world long thought fictional. Oops? DM/OC, HP/OC, RW/HG, DT/AB, NL/GW.

* * *

The Hope of a New World:

Alternate Universes, Fiction, and Fanfiction

By Bridget Griffins

Professor George Mooney—English 224

One of the most common themes in fiction is answering the eternal question of "What if?" and attempting to answer that question will inevitably lead to the writing of alternate universe stories. In original fiction, this can most obviously be seen in works of science-fiction, fantasy, or alternate history, but is it most apparent in the existence of fanfiction itself. Never truly able to be congruent with the canon work, fanfiction is merely a collection of alternate ideas and different timelines.

Most obvious is the alternate universe story. The basic theory behind these "fics" is that once a different decision is made the entire chain of events that follows that decision—as big or small as it may seem—can be changed. It can be something large and obviously important, like the decision of a Secret Keeper in the _Harry Potter _book series, or it can be something small and seemingly inconsequential, such as John Winchester's choice of car in the _Supernatural _television series. These decisions set off another set of questions that can lead to a story almost completely independent of the original work.

All stories begin with a choice. For instance, in the original story one character, Conner, chose to put another character, Katie, in a situation, a new world perhaps, against the advice of his elders. This situation would force her to deal with life and death decisions that would not always go in her favor, and Conner knows that. It is inevitable that Katie will find heartache and hardship in this new world, but she can also create hope and opportunity that the world would not have had without her and, possibly, she could find friends and love to a depth she could never have in her old world.

But, what if Conner had listened to his elders? What if he had waited just that one extra moment, and taken the time to think things through?

Perhaps, then, something would have happened to illustrate to him just how damaging this could be to Katie and, in an attempt to protect her from the pain, he decides to keep her isolated from that new world. It is possible that she could then have a normal life with a nice husband, nice children, and a nice job. Or, maybe, the draw would be too much and she would still be pulled into that world he tried so hard to keep her from. Did delaying the inevitable make things better for Katie, or did Conner's overprotective actions make it harder in the end?

At this point it's a completely different universe, even if the starting point was the same. He made a decision for her good, in an attempt to make things right, which is something we all strive to do. But, now, after the fact, can he really say that it was better?

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Just to be clear, this is an AU of our other fic, _Distinctus Inter Nos, _which is an AU of the HP world. You don't need to read DIN, although it is helpful, at least. This is a very different world from DIN, but it should be fun.

Flames will be used to ward off Voldemort (obviously he's afraid of fire… dunno why) and reviews are always welcome. Questions can be directed at either Kagumi or Jet (or both if you don't know who'd be better) and we shall try to answer them without revealing sensitive plot information. If it's a plot point, we'll just tell you to keep reading.

~Jet and Gumi


	2. ii: Prologue: Case Active

**Disclaimer:** _We don't own anything from the HP world. We do own original plot, characters, and interpretations of canon plot and characters._

**Author's Notes: **So... here we go with the start of the actual plot. We were originally going to wait until the end of DIN book 1 to post this, as we were worried about plot-confusion and our fans, but we obviously gave up on that. Allow me introduce you to _Per Vultas Vas_.

* * *

**Prologue:**

Case Active

_"The problem with seeing the future is that you cannot just sit and look at it; you've got to try and change it..." --John Barrowman, as Captain Jack Harkniss, __Torchwood

* * *

_

Bridget stretched and glanced at the clock. They'd finally finished reading the sixth book at about four or so, drifting off to sleep right afterwards. Now it was almost noon, and it felt more than a little strange. She didn't normally sleep in so late and there was something else in the air, as if a storm was coming.

She crawled out from under the covers, careful not to upset Gumi's sleeping form, and wandered down to the kitchen to make something to eat. Then, sandwich in hand, she plopped down on the couch and flicked the television on. Ten minutes in, the daytime soap opera was (thankfully) interrupted by "Breaking News."

"_Word has just made it to our station that the Taliban has captured a United States Air Force officer in Afghanistan and has made demands for his release. Preliminary reports have the officer both based at and from the islands, although no other information is being released until the family can be notified. This is Lisa Wong with KHON 9 breaking news. We'll now return to your regular programming."_

Bridget immediately switched the station to something more light-hearted. She really didn't need to know what happened when Jenna found out that her boyfriend/ex-husband was actually her adopted brother's natural stepsister's cousin's evil twin's soul in her secret half-brother's body. Even that convoluted mess of a "plot" wasn't enough to keep herself from worrying.

* * *

An hour and a half later Kagumi wandered down and snatched the remote control out of Bridget's uninterested grasp. The other girl was busy scribbling in her notebook and didn't seem too concerned with what was playing on the screen. Kagumi paused on one of the basic cable channels when she realized that the news was playing in the middle of the afternoon on all of the major stations and that Bridget's eyes had snapped up, focused on the screen.

"Are you okay?" Gumi asked, concerned.

Bridget ignored her, attention fully fixed on the news report, intent and focused.

"_We are sorry to be the first to report that the Air Force officer has, reportedly, been killed in the line of duty. Details are still sketchy, but reports state that a video has been posted on the Internet and it appears to be legitimate. The Air Force refuses to confirm or deny the authenticity of the film, however they have stated that the family is yet to be notified and, no further information will be given at this time." The Asian woman nodded at the audience with an odd, fake smile on her face. "This is Lisa Wong once again with breaking news. We'll __now __return to the normal programming."_

She flicked off the television at the look on Bridget's face. But the other girl just continued to stare at the blank screen, worrying at her bottom lip. "Jet?"

"I'm fine," she responded in a soft voice. "It's just… those reports always make me feel horrible. It seems so predatory."

"Yes, I know. It makes me think of Jack and Wyatt; are they coming this summer? I did so look forward to seeing them again," Gumi said melodramatically, stretching out across the couch in a manner that would've made Scarlet O'Hara look second best; she even had the arm thrown over her eyes.

Jet sighed, and gave a reluctant grin before her expression dropped again. "Right, and by 'them' you mean Johnny. You know, Gumi, that little crush of yours isn't very subtle."

"Never said it had to be," Gumi yawned, plopping down and stretching out beside Jet. "It just has to work."

"Has to work? It definitely worked, dear; if you throw yourself at him any harder, you're going to break something," Jet's brow crinkled. "They're not coming, though. He was deployed earlier this year and Wyatt's in D.C. with the Pentagon until he's transferred there, too in a few weeks. You'll get letters."

"Deployed?" Abruptly Kagumi sat up, eyes focused on her friend; the news of her longtime crush being deployed did not make her morning any better.

Bridget nodded. "Afghanistan."

At Gumi's horrified look, she looked away and returned to her notebook, still unusually sober. After another moment, Kagumi turned back to the television, this time finding an old episode of _Stargate: SG-1 _to watch. It might not be the best of ideas, but perhaps by thinking of Jack O'Neill she could cease to worry about Jack Griffins.

* * *

"No." The utter despair in her voice made Kagumi wince and rush faster towards the front door. She'd gotten a bad feeling when the doorbell had rung, but now she knew something was wrong. Jet never sounded that distraught. "_No._ No, no, _nononono_."

She slid around the corner just in time to see Bridget collapse into the arms of a man in Air Force dress blues. Kagumi froze with her hand on the wall, feeling awkward about intruding on the emotional scene; in the four years she'd known the girl Bridget had never, _never _cried. But now… now she was sobbing in this man's arms like her entire world had collapsed.

"I'm sorry, Jet," he said, sounding like he was about to break down as well. "I'm so sorry, darling. I'd give anything for it to not be him, but they know. They sent his dogtags and they can't fake that. It's him."

Bridget shook her head in response as the violent sobs racked her body, shoulders visibly shaking her body, and the man somehow pulled her even closer. He buried his face in her hair, muttering frantic, hopeless apologies to the devastated girl as he tried to hold her together from the sheer force of his own desperation.

After a few moments, her sobs died down to quiet, heart-wrenching crying, and the man seemed to feel that it was safe to adjust her in his arms so he could pick her up and get to his feet. He gave the girl a fond, heartbroken look before he caught sight of Kagumi, still frozen at the sight.

"Miss Pheonix?" he said in a thick, pained voice with just the barest hint of a Southern drawl.

The voice, now that she was closer, rang true, and a heavy weight settled deep in her heart. "Wyatt," she greeted back cautiously. "Whatever happened to just 'Gumi'?"

"I'm afraid I'm not here on pleasure. Air Force business." Gumi nodded helplessly; she could guess what had happened and she didn't know what to do; a savage, fierce part of her mind growled at what she suspected, but the rest of her wanted to cry out in denial. "I apologize for intruding on your summer like this, but I had no choice."

"I understand," she replied. She didn't know how to make this better. She couldn't make this better. "I hope I'm wrong, but I understand."

His eyes drifted back down to the girl he was cradling, but she wasn't responding to anything. "I just… it's _Jack_ and—" He broke off, gulped and took a deep breath, gaze darting down to check on the girl he was cradling, but she didn't so much as flinch at the name, before he continued, sounding on the verge of tears. "Gumi, it's Jack."

"Another cousin?" Kagumi asked hesitantly. She may have known the family for years, but it was hard to remember the names of all of Bridget's fifty or so cousins. She desperately hoped it was another Jack Griffins; the Griffins 'ohana was chock full of traditional names. _Dear sweet God, please let it be a different Jack._

"No, darlin'," he said softly, somehow managing to still be sympathetic through his own pain and the paralyzing worry he had about the girl who was, in all senses but the official, his best friend's little sister. "It's Johnny. Jack."

It clicked. "_No_," she said, hand over her mouth, as she realized what this meant. "Oh, no."

Bridget had been the only one allowed to call him Johnny, although Kagumi remembered her calling him Jack when she was talking with other people, and that's how the man had introduced himself the first time they'd met. But Kagumi had seen the hero-worship in her friend's eyes when she'd spoken of the older boy; Gumi put aside her own pain for the moment. This was going to break the other girl and she couldn't let herself fall apart as much as it hurt to keep it together. Perhaps in helping keep Jet together, she'd find her own fragility easier to forget.

* * *

Wyatt was officially the most helpful person Kagumi had ever known. She'd been out of her element in the painful, lonely hours following Bridget's cousin's death until her scattered family could assemble at the Griffins' home. Kagumi just didn't know how to handle the normally optimistic girl's sudden turn into a dark depression she had never expected her to be able to fall victim to. It was too jarring; it made everything too real.

The girl had shut down completely, brown eyes dark and frighteningly blank until that spark of fear Kagumi had seen when Wyatt had tried to lay her on the bed. She'd clutched frantically at his shirt and, after a moment of awkward hesitation, the man had sat down and allowed her to curl up on his lap.

He held her there, shoulders slowly loosening as Bridget burrowed herself in his shirt until Kawika's hurried arrival when she was able to launch herself at her cousin and broke out into heart-wrenching sobs yet again, the sobs that made Kagumi wish that there was someone she could hurt to make it better. Kagumi's own tears began again, tears that she hid from both Wyatt's too-understanding gaze and Jet, lost in her own world of pain. Tears that burned, scalded and made her coldly angry all at once.

* * *

Cordan couldn't watch anymore. He stumbled away from the scrying bowl and fell into his chair, arms hanging heavy at his side as a heavy ache settled in his chest. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to make it better and save her so he never had to see that painful blankness on the usually animated, hopeful girl's face.

"I can't do it, Ram," he said firmly. "I can't do that to her—to them."

Raminus nodded. "We won't." His eyes flicked up at his best friend, heart aching for both girls. "We can't fix this, Cordan. We can't interfere like that."

"Yes," Cordan sighed. "I know. But we can do our best to make sure it never happens again. We can't send them to the Marauders," he repeated, even if he knew the Slytherin agreed. "We can't hurt them like that."

* * *

The thing about living forever is that things don't really change much, even if years have passed.

Cordan sighed explosively, falling back on his chair with dramatics that made Raminus roll his eyes. In his opinion, joviality suited his best friend of 900 years much better. However, now was not the time for joviality. Cor stared up at his friend with what was probably supposed to be his puppy-dog expression, brown eyes unusually solemn under his blond fringe. He likely thought he looked adorably upset. In Raminus's humble opinion, however, he looked like a bloody idiot.

"But, Ram, I haven't _done _anything," he moaned.

"Doubtful," Raminus drawled. "But I don't think we're in trouble this time."

The blond sprung up with unrestrained energy. He'd regained the freakish excitement that his demeanor usually entailed; just watching him was making Raminus tired.

"Really?" Cordan asked, smiling widely. "But we're always in trouble."

Raminus sighed and sat down on Cordan's abandoned chair. "I think it's about our girls. They mentioned the prophecy."

This had Cordan pulled back down to Earth. It had been five years, in the mortal realm, since they'd attempted to send the girls away. But the death of pilot Jack Griffins had torn their world apart more thoroughly than anything the two Guardians could have done, and they'd sworn not to make it worse by tearing it apart again.

Besides, he'd gotten oddly attached to Bridget Griffins (they were entirely too similar in the Slytherin's opinion) and, even though he wouldn't admit it aloud, Raminus had grown rather fond of Kagumi; she reminded him of himself in rather endearing, if frightening, ways. And as a bonus, the two were one of the few topics that could make Cor act like an adult.

"You don't know any more about it?" he asked with a small frown. "They didn't say anything else?"

"No. Just that they wished to see us immediately. It's only the Three."

Cordan recoiled into himself, expression turning introspective. It was the face he got when he started really thinking and usually meant that Raminus didn't have to worry about anything. Cor was a pretty good strategist when he wasn't hindered by his childish tendencies.

"Immediately?" he asked. Raminus nodded, letting his friend's mind run on whatever course it had decided to take. That was usually the best choice. "Let's go, then."

Without another word, Cor walked briskly out of their closet and towards the room the others were waiting in. Ram hurried to catch up, not managing to do so until Cordan was already in the room, staring up at the three House Founders.

"We have news of the Griffins and Pheonix girls," Godric said. He looked like his usual solemn and grim self (Raminus was strongly reminded of just how similar Cordan looked to his grandfather), but it was more worrying that Rowena, and even Helga, seemed equally concerned about whatever it was.

"Yes, Grandfather?" Cordan said, just this side of respectful.

"Did you know that they had moved to London? Last year, as it is." This was one of those trick questions, Raminus thought, one of those ones that were designed to reveal how much you knew of something and what your part in it was. He waited for things to explode.

"Yes, Grandfather. Bridget came into her inheritance and Kagumi decided to go as well. She desired a change."

Raminus was slightly impressed. They had been the ones who had orchestrated the whole thing-- making Bridget aware of her rightful inheritance and arranging both her schooling and Kagumi's job opportunities. Cordan didn't show the slightest hint that they'd been at all involved. Which, seeing as they'd technically been banned from contacting the girls, was probably for the best.

"Well, an unforseen development has arisen." Godric sat back in his throne-like chair, folding his hands in front of him. "I don't believe you intended this when you—without authorization, may I add— inserted them into this world. I assume it was to keep better track of them," he arched a challenging eyebrow, "having them closer to our center of influence, not to make them aware of the magical world, but they have... made friends. Very, ahem, _close _friends."

Godric waved a hand and Helga summoned a Mirror that neither boy had seen before. "Once you made us aware of their potential," she explained, "we wished to keep an eye on them. We wanted to know if they made any developments in their natural abilities. So we created this."

The Mirror was not just gilded, but ringed with whorls of silver and gold, two metals that, when combined, increased the effective distance on some magical artifacts. The added gold also helped with potency, something that was not lost on either of the younger males.

Cordan opened his mouth, but snapped it shut again with an audible click and Raminus knew why. It was outrageous. They knew that the two of them had been keeping track of the girls. Why hadn't they _told _the Guardians that they had made the task easier?

Rowena spoke in a soft voice that sounded almost broken-hearted, "We wished to be sure of your dedication to the two girls."

"You were testing us?" Cordan asked incredulously.

"After everything we put into making this work, you still didn't trust us?" Raminus asked quietly. It hurt. He wondered if his blood would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

"No, but we _were_ testing you," she said. "I fear it was not the... wisest decision we have made." She waved them forward. "Please, look into the glass."

They walked up to the Mirror and peered into it. It showed a scene that they, especially Cordan, were quite familiar with: a homey bookstore with a single soul bustling around. She was a pretty girl, young with dark auburn hair that almost seemed brown and a captivating face, and she radiated power to the experienced wizards. It was who walked in and his unusually easy, relaxed demeanor that surprised them.

Simultaneously, the two boys' eyes widened. After another few moments of watching the scene play out (everyone in the room knew what that look in the young pair's eyes meant), Cordan cleared his throat. "Well, Grandfather, it seems you may finally get your wish. Powerful bloodlines unite."

"Oh, but that is not everything," Helga said, waving her hand over the scene. She actually sounded quite relieved; none of the three Founders were as familiar with the girls as the two boys were and they were the best people to figure out how to deal with the situation at hand.

Raminus dreaded what he would see, but still looked. It was another familiar setting: a girl in simple clothes performing her tasks with a practiced familiarity. She was just as attractive, although in a different way, with light golden skin and captivating eyes and she held a power that felt... different than the usual. Then she placed a coffee mug in front of an equally familiar man.

Cordan began to laugh. "I suppose it only makes sense," he snickered. "Who else would it be?"

Raminus groaned, covering his face with his hand. "Merlin's beard."

"Precisely, my boy," Godric said, startling the two; he was still solemn, and they had a feeling that somehow, this— whatever the "this" was that Godric was going to spring on them— would not be easy. "We believe you two were right, although the... interpretation is slightly different than we expected. It's been five years, but we feel that it is time to re-explore your theory. This case is now active."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** First and foremost, we see Ram and Cor again. Yay!

Don't forget to read and review. We shall hold all reviews dear, except those that flame with the fire of hate and ignorance. Those we shall attempt to reply to in an intelligent and courteous manner before we laugh as they burn. Yes, we do try to keep civilized.

~Jet and Gumi


	3. 1: A New Beginning

**Disclaimer:** The usual. We own nothing except what we own, every thing else belongs to other fortunate and infinitely more talented souls than us.

* * *

**Chapter One:** A New Beginning

_"The first step, my son, which one makes in the world, is the one on which depends the rest of our days." –Voltaire

* * *

_

This probably wasn't one of her best ideas. She moved forward carefully, trying to keep the pile of books precariously stacked in her arms from falling, and had almost reached the front desk when she tripped over herself and stumbled forward. Bridget managed to catch herself, but she was now clutching the brand new books to her chest, frozen and afraid to move lest she cause the ones balanced at the peak of the pile to topple over.

Her nose itched. This could _not _be happening to—to—"Ah-_choo!_"

Bridget opened her eyes carefully; afraid that she'd lost most of the books she'd been carrying. She breathed a sigh of blessed relief when she saw the pair of familiar hands supporting the stack towering over her.

"Are you okay?" the softly accented voice asked. Bridget felt her cheeks begin to heat up.

"Uh, yes," she said. "Thanks, James."

"You're very welcome."

The man straightened up, placing the book on the counter and taking a few of the more dangerously placed books from her arms. He was about 6'1" with a lean, thin, sturdy frame, a mop of barely controlled black hair, and a pair of the most _gorgeous _green eyes she'd ever seen… eyes that were currently looking at her in a very concerned manner. She flushed; it was hard to think when he was looking at her like that. Of course, she had difficulty concentrating when he was around on even the best of days.

"Um…" Bridget dumped the rest of the books on the counter, checking to make sure that she had the titles she needed. "Is there something I can help you with? Does that friend of yours need another book?"

James Evans had walked into The Bookshop a little over a year earlier, just after she'd arrived, with an utterly hopeless expression and a paper clutched in his hand, and he had never really left, coming by at least once a week with a request or just to browse. Bridget claimed that it was because she'd been the only one to find the book he'd wanted and the poor man had been desperate; Kagumi said he obviously had a thing for her, but just didn't have the guts to do anything about it. Then again, Kagumi also said that she "communed with nature" and her dreams gave her déjà-vu, so not everything could be taken seriously.

"No," he said, taking a seat next to the register on the stool he'd commandeered a month after his first visit, "but I was wondering if that one I ordered last week came in."

"Oh!" Bridget ducked behind the counter, searching for the package they'd received the day before. "Yes, it did; yesterday." She popped back up, book in hand, and gave it to him. "Here you go. And it's already paid for, so, yeah."

"Thanks."

Bridget started sorting the books into stacks according to where they belonged in the 'Shop. She hesitated, halfway through her task, and shot a worried look at James. "Is everything okay? You seem very quiet today." He seemed to be very focused on the inexpensive check-writing pen she had connected to the desk with a rubber band. It normally did not attract such single-minded focus, not even from the easily distracted children occasionally dragged in by harried parents.

"James?"

"Hm?" He dropped the pen back on the desk, glancing around the store as she drew his attention.

"Are you okay?" she repeated, concern now obvious in her voice.

"I'm fine." James tucked the book into his jacket, turning his full attention on her. "Nothing… unusual has happened to you or your flatmate, right? No strange people following you or coming into The Bookshop?"

Bridget shook her head. "No. Everything has been perfectly normal." She frowned. "Is this one of your cop things again?"

"Something like that," he conceded. He handed her a slip of strangely thick paper, his hand lingering in hers for several moments longer than she'd have expected; the contact gave her an odd feeling in her chest. "Just… call me if anything weird happens, even if it seems silly."

"Sure." She smiled. "I'll call even if we're visited by Father Christmas."

But James was completely serious, his green eyes staring at her with intensity she wasn't used to. "Promise me."

"Um, sure," she said, cheeks burning, "I promise."

* * *

"You never mentioned how hot she was, Potter," a voice drawled as soon as Harry left the 'Shop (great, Bridget even had _him_ mentally capitalizing the name).

"Shut up, Malfoy," he growled, striding down towards Grimmauld Place. Malfoy easily caught up, nursing his coffee cup as if it were the Holy Grail itself instead of merely his main source of caffeine. "I'm not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood. I think this bookstore bird could help with that. You _really_ need to get laid." Harry tried to ignore him. Sometimes it worked… just not today. "I know she's not exactly a red-head like your former fiery mistress, but auburn should be close enough to satisfy your Oedipus complex. And you may be too much of a Gryffindor to notice it, but your girl is fit. The doe-eyed, blushing innocent thing is a bit much for my tastes, but she seems just like your bottle of Butterbeer."

"She's not _my _girl. Bridget's just a friend."

"Of course," Malfoy took a long sip of his coffee while Harry waited for him to show his hand; he'd spent entirely too much time with the Slytherin to expect any less, "which is why you rushed off to check on her as soon as someone credible threatened your 'girlfriend.' Why would I even _entertain _the idea that you might have feelings for her?"

Draco's eyes surveyed Harry as he took another long drink from the cup, sighing contentedly when the caffeine began to hit his system; his waitress had been working today, and for some odd reason, she was the only one there who could make his order perfectly. (Personally, Draco suspected sabotage; perhaps some elaborate form of addictive drugging.) After another glorious sip, he turned his thoughts back to what Potter was saying.

"She's not involved in the War," Harry said shortly. "I just want to make sure it stays that way."

"This bookstore clerk's a Muggle, Potter."

"Exactly," Harry turned to face the other man. "She's defenseless and the only reason she'd be dragged into it is because of _me_, because _I _couldn't keep away. Don't you dare tell me it's ridiculous."

"I wasn't going to," Malfoy replied coolly, eyebrows raised. "I was going to suggest that we ward that store of hers and her flat, but I needed you to admit she was in danger first." He pushed pass Harry and opened the door to the Headquarters. "Of course, you _do _know where she lives, don't you?"

* * *

Kagumi sighed deeply, resting her hand on the last coffee machine of the night. Her coworker, Amanda, cast a speculative look at her friend, who was absently playing with the edge of the rag she was holding, a far-away look on her face and a faint tinge of pink on her high cheekbones.

"Gumi? You all right?" the girl's soft Cockney accent was soothing, a thing of familiarity, and brought Kagumi out of the trance she'd been in.

"Yeah, 'Manda. I'm fine, just irritated."

Kagumi finished wiping down the machine and threw her towel into the bucket of water, green eyes narrowed as she remembered the source of her irritation. Amanda shot her an understanding look, smiling knowingly. Since the Irish-American had come to London a little over a year ago, they'd become good friends; Amanda knew most of her little quirks by now, and that look only meant one thing: the blond looker who came in and gave her a snarkily hard time was on her mind.

"Is it him again?" the girl's teasing was nothing new, so Kagumi shoved her very gently and turned the lock on the front door. Her eyes slid automatically to the second table on the right, where _he_ normally sat. "Mm-hm," Amanda said, her little smile stretching into a full-blown smirk as she finished up the sweeping. "You've got it bad."

"I've got nothing bad," Kagumi shot defensively. She had the same argument with Gregory, her favorite cashier, all the time, as well as with Jet whenever she happened to mention Him.

It really wasn't as often as her friend implied. Simply couldn't be. Surely she would have _noticed_ if it was _that_ often.

"Gumi, love, just admit it. You're obsessed! I mean, he comes in and puts you in a bad mood, or he doesn't come in and _still_ manages to put you in a bad mood. You're not happy unless you can gripe about him," Amanda said, giving her friend a wide-eyed look of innocence that would fool no one.

"All right, all right!" Kagumi threw her hands up in defeat. "You win. I _might_ be a _little_ obsessed. But it's more like I want him to notice me as more than just his waitress. I mean, even if it's just as a, 'Oh, hey, I sorta know you, but not really. How've you been?' You know?

"But no, the smarmy little git can't even be human for five minutes. I'm not even sure _why_ I want him to notice me." Kagumi's voice was soft, and very uncertain. Amanda threw her arm casually over her friend's shoulder and gave her a one-armed hug; she was positive that Kagumi hadn't been in many relationships, or else she'd see the looks the boy gave her when he thought she wasn't looking. In fact, as far as Amanda knew, Kagumi had mentioned all of three people she'd ever fancied (a dance partner, an old schoolmate, and a pilot; though with the pilot, Gumi's eyes were so haunted, no one ever pushed for more details and no one dared ask about the thin steel chain she never took off), which was unusual in a twenty-one year old of her looks.

"Gumi, I'm sure that he knows you as more than a waitress." When Kagumi shot her friend one of her infamous Looks, Amanda shied away a bit. "See, the girls and I have a—"

"If you say that you've got a pool going, I will have to shove you into the cooler." Kagumi's flat expression was worthy of the word deadpan.

"All right, so I won't say it."

"That's it." Kagumi took her friend by the arm, and wrestled her out the door; it was a common practice among the two night shift workers. Both women were laughing by the time they locked the last door, and Amanda waved goodbye as she took off down the alley and Kagumi was left alone with her thoughts and recollections of the day.

_Stupid prat; doesn't even tip when I make his coffee just the way he likes it. I mean, that's one of the things that got me my raise: I remember all of my regulars, and the way they like their orders... orders and… wait a tic, do I hear footsteps?_ Kagumi tore her thoughts away from the tall, smooth-talking blond who never failed to infuriate her to scan her surroundings. Shivering, she didn't feel as alone as she had a moment ago.

Even though she took this walk often enough (every day, twice a day), to know exactly where she was, for some reason she was nervous; something was _wrong_. Kagumi surreptitiously looked at the flickering shadows around her and noticed a hulking shape dogging her footsteps. _Keep it cool, keep it cool..._ The mantra repeated in her head, and she struggled to keep her breathing even.

Maybe it was her flatmate's repeated worries from her constable friend, or maybe it was being alone in London, where she still wasn't entirely at home, but being followed on her way home from work scared her more than anything else ever had. And, coming from a complicated family life and the southern (mostly Irish) side of Madison, Wisconsin, and parts of Ireland that never made it to the little travel brochures, she didn't scare easily.

This, however, terrified her.

As she turned the corner, she was able to shoot a quick, covert glance over her shoulder; the man following her looked more like a bouncer at an American nightclub than a stalker: he was about six-two, a little on the heavy side, though it looked to be all muscle, and had short brown hair. No, it wouldn't do to have him catch her. He'd likely break her neck as ask for the time of night.

_Time of night? Why, I do believe it's time to disappear,_ a rather adventurous side of her answered wryly. She didn't ask why it sounded like the git who never tipped, but took the advice just the same.

Good advice was good advice, after all.

Kagumi quickened her pace, pulling her leather jacket tighter at the collar, trying very hard to make it seem like she just wanted to get home because of the slight nip in the air. _Although it's still early fall; there shouldn't be this much chill. I mean, it should be cool and a little misty, but not...cold._ She blew her breath out, and watched it puff in a small cloud before finally turning onto her street. She'd never known that an elegant little building could be so very comforting. Nonchalantly, Kagumi swung herself easily onto the steep stairs, and watched the hulk of a man stand at the street corner before turning and walking into another alley.

* * *

Bridget set the knife down, hands shaking so badly she couldn't even bring herself to pretend that Gumi's typical, rather loud methods of opening the door (also known as slamming, or quite possibly breaking down) hadn't startled her. Normally, she would have just written off James's concern— her father had been a police officer, too, and she knew they could be paranoid about everything, especially with friends and family— but James was usually much more laid back about this sort of thing.

She hadn't even realized he was an officer until some idiot had tried to rob her (A _bookstore?_ _Really. _If there was ever a more ridiculous place to rob…) while he was on his way to visit, and she usually could spot his sort a mile off. If he was really worried enough to make her promise to call whenever something strange happened, at any time of day, then she should probably be worried, too.

"Bridget?"

She jumped, nearly upending the entire chopping board, and spun around to face her friend, who had just entered the kitchen. Bridget took in a deep breath, one hand to her chest as if to catch her pounding heart as it leapt from her ribs.

"Don't _do _that," she muttered, still breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" Kagumi asked, setting her bag on the counter and taking the knife and cutting board from her friend. It was good to have something that needed to be done; it kept her mind away from the rather frightening incident, and she was able to calm down and be herself again. Having someone else to take care of always soothed her, even if it was only fixing dinner.

"I'm fine," Bridget said with a crooked smile. "I'm just a little jumpy."

"No kidding." Kagumi washed her hands in the sink and took over for Bridget, while the other girl pulled up one of their kitchen stools and put her head in her arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," she replied, voice muffled by her arms.

"Don't give me that, Jet!" threatened Kagumi, waving the knife. "It is not _nothing_ and you will tell me what is bothering you."

"Or what?" came the muffled reply. It actually sounded like a question, without the slightest hint of challenge in her voice, which just showed how tired the girl really was, and it threw Kagumi off a bit.

"Or I'll... I dunno, eat all the food myself." Kagumi had to laugh; her five foot one frame could barely hold her eight stone six weight as it was. Bridget chuckled a little and raised her head, propping her chin on her hand and glaring in a way that seemed more tired than dangerous.

"James said something that worried me today. It's not that big of a deal."

"Oh? Did he finally buck up and ask you out?" Teasing was good, Kagumi reflected, roughly chopping the rest of the vegetables. Teasing was normal in their house.

"No!" Bridget sighed. "God, do you think of nothing else?"

"Nope," she said, popping one of the vegetables in her mouth before dumping everything in the pan to make the stir-fry. "I have a bet with Greg as to how long it'll take you two. If you don't hurry up, I'll lose. Five pound, fifty p if you must know, and it's rising every day."

"Gee, thanks," Bridget deadpanned. "I'm glad to be of service."

"So…" Kagumi turned around, a flash of _something _in her eyes as she studied her friend's body language. Bridget peeked one eye open and sighed; she forgotten what it was like to have the Irish girl's full attention. She imagined that it was probably quite like receiving her own full attention. "What's really going on with Bookshop Boy?"

The girl groaned, letting her head drop into her hands again; Gumi was relatively sure she was chuckling. "You make him sound like a lame superhero."

Kagumi grinned. "Who knows? He might just be the hero you're looking for." She flipped the food in the pan with an ease that most line-chefs would envy. "If we could all be so lucky," she grumbled, hoping her friend couldn't hear her.

"Oh, shut it." Apparently, she hadn't heard the statement. "He just asked if anything weird had happened to us recently, and said to be careful. I'm probably making a big deal out of nothing."

"Hm," Kagumi's hand paused where it was stirring the vegetables and meat, and she took stock of her friend's mental state. No, it probably wouldn't be wise to tell her what had happened on her way home; there was no reason to worry her over nothing. And she was determined to treat just as that: nothing. "You're right. He was probably talking about those weird vandals; the ones that almost destroyed that street last week; betcha they still don't have any leads on what caused it."

* * *

Kagumi crept quietly into Bridget's bedroom, noticing that her laptop was still on. _Good, that means she fell asleep doing homework and likely won't wake up soon..._ Casting her eyes about, Kagumi quickly found what she was looking for lying on her friend's desk. Seizing the thick scrap of paper, the girl stepped lightly out of the room, headed for the phone.

Even though it was past midnight, she didn't have to work the morning shift at the Coffee Pot and Kagumi was still wide-awake. She'd tried washing nearly every dish in their flat, but that only left her mind free while her hands were busy. Late night telly had held little interest and she wasn't able to write with herself so pent up.

Finally, she'd settled on rearranging the living room as quietly as possible and was halfway done when she'd remembered that this James fellow was a cop. And he sounded like the type of officer who worried too much, which was a definite plus around Bridget. So if a cop worried too much about someone he seemed quite keen on protecting, what did he do?

Give her his phone number, of course.

And that was why Kagumi was standing in the middle of a furniture pile-up, holding their cordless phone in one hand and the paper in the other, really hoping that her friend hadn't managed to snag a random guy's phone number as well as an up-and-coming policeman. For the fifth time, she dialed the numbers, and actually let it ring this time. She blew out a deep breath of immense relief when she heard "This is Detective Inspector James Evans. Please leave your name, number and a brief message, and I will get you in the queue as soon as possible."

There was a loud, shrill beep.

"Inspector Evans, my name is Kagumi Pheonix. I'm Bridget's flatmate. Um, I know that you told her to call you if anything strange happened, but she's passed out about now—well, she fell asleep, and it didn't happen to her, anyway. Although, really, much as I adore my mate, I'm not entirely sure she'd notice if something strange were to happen to her. Oh, and I really should thank you for finding Snuffy. She'd die without him, I think."

Kagumi took a deep breath, knowing that she was babbling. It rather irritated her that some random guy up to no good could shatter her cool like this. "I apologize for my babbling, Inspector, but I was followed home tonight. And I'm rather frightened. I can give you a good description, but if you're intent on protecting Bridget, and by extension, me, then I suggest you find a reason to come over as soon as humanly possible. Good night." Hand still shaking a bit, Kagumi hung up the phone and went back to rearranging furniture after replacing the parchment (who _used_ parchment?) on the table in Bridget's room, finally falling asleep just as the orange London sun peeked its way over the top of the neighboring building.

* * *

Bridget walked in the next morning, yawning, to find a sight that was getting more and more common over the weeks. Kagumi was curled up, rather like a little cat, in between the arms of her favorite reading chair. The living room looked entirely different, and the area rug had been rolled up and placed near the door. It wasn't really all that surprising. Kagumi tended to do that, had done it ever since Bridget had first moved in with the girl, but what worried Bridget was the lavender-colored smudges underneath the girl's eyes. She only did nighttime housework when she was stressed.

_How late was she up?_ Bridget wondered, taking a quick look at the kitchen, which was piled up with merrily sparkling dishes waiting to be put away. _I wonder what's got her so stressed out?_

Bridget took one of the newly clean mugs, poured some milk in it, and set it in the microwave, also starting the coffee pot (without coffee, Kagumi would _never_ be awake enough to do anything), and feeding Snuffles like she did every morning. A minute later she was sipping her hot chocolate as her large, white, golden-retriever German shepherd mix was trying to push her out the door with his nose.

"I'm going, Snuff, I'm going," she grumbled, looping his leash around one wrist and trying to balance her mug and book with her other hand.

* * *

With Harry close on his tail, Draco stepped out of the dim Muggle building that housed the entrance to the Auror Headquarters. It was a little past dawn; the partners had just pulled another night shift. They were just turning the corner to find a safe spot to Apparate home in when Harry's pocket began to buzz.

"Do you now carry bees in your pockets, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning against the lightpost and doing his best to stay awake. The comment itself was a measure of his fatigue; Draco was usually much more snarky.

"No, it's my mobile, you bloody ponce," Harry muttered, digging in pocket for the vibrating phone. He'd turned it on just a few minutes ago; there was no way it had sunk all the way down in the mess of stuff in his pockets, right? Just as he found it, he saw the voicemail light blinking, and an unfamiliar number flashing across the too-bright screen.

With ice cascading into his stomach, Harry called the voicebox number and listened with growing trepidation as the soft, Irish-accented voice described a genuine problem.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, finally budging from his spot. "You look a little…green."

"Bridget's flatmate was followed on the way home. She said he stopped at the corner and watched her all the way inside."

"Well, is she pretty? Lots of guys watch pretty girls leave."

"All the way to their house? Besides, I've no idea," Harry shrugged. "Never met her."

But then he got a certain, familiar look on his face and Draco groaned. "Oh, you _can't_ be thinking what I think you're thinking!"

* * *

"I knew you were thinking it," Malfoy accused as they walked towards Bridget's flat. "I just knew it. I can't _believe_ you convinced me to do this."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're the one who _suggested _it."

"Yes, but I thought you would take a few days to figure out where she lived, and you could get Weasel to go with you." Malfoy sighed heavily, and Harry resisted looking back to see if he was acting as dramatic as he sounded. "I never expected that you would have actually _been _there before; you're not the one night stand type."

"It wasn't a one night stand." Harry's defensive tone only left Malfoy grinning in the early morning air. "_Or_ anything more... drawn out. At least not the way you're thinking."

"Then what was it?" he paused for a second, taking into account his partner's nature. "Oh, God, you were being chivalrous again, weren't you? Weasel can't quite manage his bit, so you double up to keep the Gryffindor status quo." Harry could tell Malfoy was grinning. There was no way this could end well. "It was, wasn't it? What? Did you save her cat from a tree?" He didn't say anything; which probably wasn't the best idea. "Oh, Merlin, _tell_ me you _didn't_."

"I didn't." Harry sighed, realizing that he had no other way out of this. "She lost her dog."

Malfoy let out a sharp laugh. "That's brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

"Shut up, Malfoy. We're here."

The two men looked up at the apartment and Malfoy whistled. "You're trying to tell me that a _bookstore clerk _lives here?"

Harry looked up at the building, which he hadn't really taken notice of since the first time he ended up there. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but the building was very nice, and Bridget and her flatmate were the only tenets. It had at least three floors, and was brick with traditional white-trimmed windows and a large, thick wooden door.

"Well, she has a flatmate and technically she owns The Bookshop."

"Maybe your taste doesn't need as much work as I thought, Potter." Draco whistled slightly through his teeth as he looked at the well-kept gardens and old-style lampposts. "Right," he drawled, starting for the door, "let's get this over with."

"James?"

Harry spun around. "Bridget?" She was standing right outside her door, wrapped in a bathrobe, and blinking tiredly at him. Snuffles was sniffing around a tree down by the sidewalk, his leash trailing behind him.

"James, what are you doing here?"

"Um… walking."

"Brilliant, Potter," Malfoy whispered behind him. "We had the evening shift," he said to the girl. "Thought we'd walk back to our flat this way."

"Oh, I'd forgotten that you lived near here." She sounded half-awake, and her hair was a mess, completely unrestrained for the first time since Harry had met her, falling over her shoulders in soft auburn waves and framing her fair-skinned face with her big, brown eyes and full, pink lips— He was having difficulty focusing. "Where is that again?"

"Where's what?"

Bridget frowned, and Harry knew that Malfoy was rolling his eyes. Luckily, she still seemed to be half-asleep and would probably write off her confusion. "Your flat?"

"Oh, right up the street, a few blocks down."

She took a long sip out of her mug and put it down on the concrete steps next to her in an almost absent-minded way along with a thick, leather-bound book. Bridget called Snuffles over, the dog having finished his business, and took his leash, strolling down the steps towards them with her hands shoved deep into her robe pockets. When the girl reached them, Malfoy stuck his hand out.

"I'm Drake, James's partner."

Bridget smiled, and shook his hand. "I'm Bridget Griffins; I run The Bookshop. James helped me find Snuffles here once," she gave Harry a blinding smile that made the five-hour search for her dog in the freezing cold London rain worthwhile, "and he's my most frequent customer."

"Yes, I know. I've heard a lot about you." Harry dug his elbow into Malfoy's side, but the other man ignored him. "You're just as pretty as he's said."

Harry felt his cheeks heat up, but was mollified when he saw that Bridget was having a similar reaction… and glancing at him every other second, not the other Auror. At least he knew there was _something, _even if it was only embarrassment. It would have been so much worse if she had just laughed it off, or only had eyes for Malfoy. That... Harry wasn't sure what he would do if that were the case.

"Did anything happen after I left the 'Shop?" he asked, attempting to ignore the way Malfoy was bribing the dog with a biscuit (they'd learned early on to keep dog biscuits and cat treats on their person at all times—you never knew when they would come in handy).

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head, "not even a customer. It was a slow day. But that's okay; gave me time to do homework."

"All right," he said. Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly, unsure where he was going next wit this conversation. Then Bridget stumbled into him the exact same time something wrapped around the back of his legs, and pulled his feet out from under him. He fell, cracking his head on the sidewalk right before Bridget fell on him.

"No, Snuffles!" the girl scolded as she rolled off him to untangle their legs from the leash. "Bad boy. I'm sorry, Ja—oh God, are you okay?"

Harry was feeling a little dizzy from hitting his head against the sidewalk, but at her horrified look, he touched his nose. His fingers came back bloody. This was all Malfoy's fault; he wasn't sure how he'd done it, yet, but—it was those damn dog biscuits!

He let his head fall back on the curb and closed his eyes. Malfoy was going to pay for this.

"_James?"_

Bridget's panicked call brought him back and he pushed himself up, ignoring the spinning sensation that came with it and the fact that she wasn't more than a few centimeters away from him.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "I've had much..." Bridget leaned forward, an intense look on her face, and carefully trailed her fingers down his cheekbones, and around the bloodied area, pushing his chin up to get a better look. She tilted her head, frowning thoughtfully, and Harry realized that he'd trailed off, "worse."

"You are not _fine_! James, you're _bleeding."_ Her eyes widened, latching onto his. "Oh, did _I _do that?"

"Um, yes, I think so." Bridget gave him an upset look, absolutely mortified, and he quickly added, "But that's okay. It's not even broken."

"It may not be broken, sweetheart, but it's bleeding. Come upstairs, and I'll take care of it."

Before Harry was entirely aware of what was going on, she and Malfoy had pulled him onto his feet and he was leaning heavily on the girl. He must've hit the ground a lot harder than he thought, and he was pretty sure he was seeing double. Although the idea of two Bridgets was a nice one. He grinned slightly, and Bridget shot him another worried look.

"I'll keep your pup company down here," Malfoy said. Harry tried to ignore the self-satisfied smirk curving his partner's lips as Bridget steadied him from leaning the other way again; it didn't work as well when he was injured.

"Just come," Bridget said, taking a deep breath, as she fished through her pocket for her keys with one hand, "come on inside when you're done. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Harry was going to kill Malfoy... as soon as he could figure out which one was real.

* * *

Bridget didn't know how this had happened. James was sitting at her dinner table at six in the morning, holding a rapidly darkening handkerchief to his nose. She hurried off to get another cloth, searching through the drawers for a handful of the unfortunately white rags. She made a mental note to buy more dark colored cloths; it would save on bleach.

"What's going on?"

She turned around. "Gumi, will you _stop _startling me?"

"Sorry," her friend replied in a very unapologetic tone. Bridget rolled her eyes. "Who's the guy in the dining room?"

"That's, um," Bridget steeled herself for the inevitable reaction from her flatmate and tried to convince her cheeks not to turn pink, "that's James."

Gumi, who wasn't normally at her best in the mornings, suddenly looked much more alert than was usual that early on. She pushed the door open a few inches, and peered around the doorframe at the man. "Oh, Jet, he's cute."

"You can't even see his face," she replied, brushing past Kagumi with the rags, some ice, and a first aide kit in hand. "I bloodied his nose. He might have a concussion, too; he seemed a little... confused."

"Really? What did you do?" The yawning girl gave her friend a wide-eyed look of feigned innocence; Bridget sighed, and decided that truth was the easiest option.

"I may or may not have, um, fallen on him." At Gumi's incredulous, though hardly surprised, look, Jet glared. "I blame Snuffles."

"Oh, sure, blame the dog." Kagumi yawned widely again, eyes watering; she didn't look much better than she had when Bridget had woken up. "Still, anything requiring more than a bandage, a cuppa, and some aspirin, and I'm out of my league. Ask him if he wants breakfast while I'm in here."

Bridget sighed, strode into the dining room and deposited her supplies on the table. Gently, she pulled his hand away from his face. "I'm fine," he protested, attempting to wave her away. "I've had much worse."

"Either you're lying to make me feel better, or you get into way too much trouble." She took one of the damp rags and started wiping the blood away, holding his arm down. "You're covered in blood and gore, and your pupils are sluggish. You are nowhere near fine."

"I'm not?"

"No. Yes. I don't know; I'm an English major, not Pre-Med. But you'll get there soon enough. Look," Bridget smiled triumphantly, plopping the rag on the side, "I already got most of the blood off. Now, how do you like your eggs?"

"You are not going to feed me after I bled all over you," he said, pinching his nose gingerly.

"Right. I'm afraid you have two choices here, hon," Bridget said as she gently cleaned the blood off of his hand. She looked up at him, her eyes lit up with amusement. "Either you can argue with me and eat it cold-- and I guarantee you will eat it-- or you can be a big boy and tell me what you want. Now, how do you like your eggs?"

Harry sighed, he knew better than to argue when her voice sounded like that and she was only in her pajamas (it was unfairly distracting), and grumbled an answer, feeling very cornered in.

* * *

Kagumi left Bridget behind in the kitchen, simultaneously cooking some eggs, toast, bacon, and sausage and humming vaguely to herself. She shifted the extra coffee mug into her free hand and pushed the door open with her shoulder.

She placed the mugs on the table and took up the nearest seat. "Detective Inspector Evans?" she inquired. This early in the morning, her brogue was a bit more pronounced and he lowered the cloth from his face and gave Kagumi a searching look. He seemed much sharper than Bridget had given him credit for. Then again, Bridget didn't fancy guys without a brain, not counting that one guy in school; that one was just... she shook her head and made herself focus, difficult as it was. The sleep deprivation was beginning to catch up on her.

"Yes, I'm James Evans." He wiped the blood from under his nose. "Miss Pheonix?"

"Yes. I brought you some coffee. I wasn't sure how you liked it, though. Or if you preferred tea."

"Coffee. In the morning, at any rate. Black's fine."

"Yes, there is little life without coffee," she smiled tightly. "Aside from Bridget, who I consider to be a freak of nature. My brothers used to call it my human juice, since I wasn't what they deemed human before my first cup."

"You'd get along well with my partner, then." _Or kill him_, thought Harry. _And wouldn't that be amusing to see?_ "He is exactly the same way. You risk death if you try to talk to him before his two cups." They shared an amused look, before Kagumi gave up and decided to get to stop beating around the bush.

"I was wondering," Kagumi asked, her light tone belying the worry that had plagued her dreams, "if you'd gotten the message I left you last night?" Her quick eyes made sure that Bridget wasn't in hearing range; she really didn't want her friend worrying more than was absolutely necessary.

James nodded. "Yes, I got it this morning; in truth, it's why I was heading this way. And I must say, you sounded tired."

"No, I was frightened. That's a bit different. And tired, but still."

"Still. You said someone followed you?" His green eyes narrowed as she described her stalker the night before, and she found herself unaccountably nervous. Taking a long drink from her mug to try to ease the sudden dryness of her mouth, she lowered her eyes to the steaming coffee she had brewed strong enough to bite. Obviously uncomfortable, she fiddled with the mug in her hands until the handle was exactly parallel to the edge of the table and looked up. He seemed ill at ease, and kept checking his back pocket as if for something that wasn't there.

"Forget it on your desk?" she asked kindly, knowing how it was to feel naked and exposed without something familiar.

"Forget what?" he asked, throwing her a sharp look, trying to read her face. There was no way she could possibly know.... They were just Muggles, after all. Weren't they?

"Well, I assume you must've left your badge at the office or something. You keep checking your back pocket for it," she smiled knowingly. He blushed a little, and wouldn't meet her eyes. _Good thing Malfoy wasn't here to see that reaction. Little git probably pinched it from my pocket._

"Something like that..." he muttered, forcing his hand down to the table. She smiled and drank from her mug when he caught her eye. "Do you smell something burning?"

"_Gumi!" _Bridget called from the kitchen, and it was shortly followed by a high-pitched beeping noise. Kagumi sighed.

"Here we go again... I'll be right back," Kagumi told the man. He was already on his feet, and she tried to give him a reassuring smile. "It's just some smoke. Happens all the time." His eyes widened; Kagumi realized that that probably wasn't the most comforting statement.

"Ow!" came the voice from the kitchen. "Crap!" Shaking her head, Kagumi went to the kitchen to see Jet fighting with a fire extinguisher, battling a smoking mess on the stove.

"Why doesn't this sight surprise me as much as it should?" James asked from over her shoulder.

"Bridget, love, this is the third time since New Year's that you've set our kitchen on fire. And each time you were trying to multitask. What have I told you about multitasking?"

"It's, uh, just another word for messing up more than one thing at a time?"

"And only to multitask on Tuesdays or Thursdays," Kagumi finished an old joke between them.

"It's only one of the rags," she muttered, pouting. "I've never accidentally set food on fire."

"So you tell me."

She grinned. James was staring at her friend with something akin to awe, with the look of a bewildered male trying to figure out how the hell someone covered in extinguisher foam, absent-mindedly patting her still-smoking singed robes, could be so incredibly charming; he shook his head as Kagumi grabbed several rags and shooed them into the dining room. At least there he could moon over her without running the risk of falling on his face. Bridget stuck her tongue out at Gumi and let James lead her out of the smoky kitchen; Gumi responded in kind.

* * *

Draco opened the door and took in the comfortable décor of the flat. Potter and the girl were sitting at the table, and it looked like Potter's nose had finally stopped bleeding. He was also pretty sure he could hear someone muttering in another room, but that could be a— what was it called? — oh, yes, a television. Snuffles didn't like the delay, and used his large body mass to push past the man.

"I thought you had a flatmate?" was the first question out of his mouth, and "Why does it smell like smoke?" was the second.

Potter glared daggers at him, as if hoping to Silence him with his eyes alone. Draco shrugged, and leaned against the table, smiling cheekily at his partner. He'd already had coffee, thought it wasn't nearly as good as his waitress's, and bothering Potter as much as possible without actually crossing any lines was high on his to-do list for the day... as it was every day. The furtive glares Potter was giving him was immensely satisfying, as was the way his entire focus shifted to the girl when she spoke.

"She's in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from... well, from a fire… a _small _fire. I mean it was only a rag and I'm pretty sure I'd have gotten it under control on my own. Then again, I wouldn't have been cooking on my own; I'm not much of a breakfast person."

Potter avoided Draco's eyes, which was wise, because he was feeling quite triumphant. Bridget flushed red, from the neck up, as he looked her over again, trailing Snuffles's leash behind him. The big dog gave the girl a sloppy kiss, then nosed his way into the kitchen, sneezing.

"Oh, don't you make fun of me too!" Bridget called after him; apparently, she had a habit of talking to him. One eyebrow raised, Draco turned to Potter.

"So, Evans, how's the injury?"

"Shut it," Potter muttered. Bridget's gaze dropped to the floor, and Draco used the opportunity to slap something into his partner's hand, shoving his own hand back into his pocket when Bridget looked up. Settling himself quite comfortably with one hip against the table still, he threw his expensive looking jacket over the back of one chair.

"You left that, by the way. Thought you might need it," he said lightly as Harry slipped the wand into his back pocket. He turned to Bridget, who was rubbing her eyes. "May I use your loo?" Wordlessly, she pointed down the hall, and he took off, pulling out his wand in the hallway.

* * *

Kagumi cursed once, loudly, and there was a yelp as she nearly trod on the dog.

"Well, get out of my way, Snuff!" she barked, exiting the kitchen with three plates of food.

Bridget's eyes lit up at the prospect of food, and she watched as the other girl put a plate in front of her and Harry, noticing the unfamiliar jacket on the back on the last chair.

"Whose is that?" she asked, cutting a piece off of her French toast but freezing at the foreign object in her territory.

Bridget swallowed her forkful of egg. "James's partner," she responded for Harry.

"Oh damn, I didn't know he was here too. Does he want anything to eat?" she looked at Harry, and he shrugged; truthfully, Malfoy never turned down food, so even if he wasn't hungry, he'd still take it. At his blank expression, Kagumi pushed herself to her feet. Grumbling slightly, she went back to the kitchen as Malfoy came out of the bathroom. Hearing another sharp curse, Bridget went to see what was wrong, and Malfoy sat across from Harry.

"I couldn't find any sort of Surveillance Spell, or Scrying traces. But you should ward the inside here while you're so comfortably ensconced," Malfoy's voice took a turn towards the amused again as Bridget came out with a plate piled high with food. She set it in front of him, smiling when his eyes widened at the selection there.

"She didn't know what you liked, so you got it all, I'm afraid."

Tentatively, (and Harry would reflect that it was one of the few times he'd ever seen Malfoy tentative) he picked up the fork and took a few bites, sighing in satisfaction. When about a fourth of the plate was polished off, which seemed to surprise Bridget, who was giving him a very amused look, Draco looked up and raised one imperatively questioning eyebrow.

"Are you all right?" Bridget asked, looking like she was attempting to suppress a smile. Harry could understand; the man ate like he was half-starved.

Malfoy swallowed the food in his mouth. "Fine. Grand. Smashing," he said thickly; there was a piece of scrambled egg hanging from the side of his mouth, which he slurped back in and washed it all down with a taste of Harry's coffee; Harry glowered and grabbed the mug back.

"And the food is...?" Bridget asked, looking far too amused by the give and take between the two partners. Draco proved exactly why when he knocked Harry's arm out of the way, seized the mug and guzzled about half of it.

"You know, there's a pot in the kitchen, Black."

"Yes, but that would involve me actually getting up and getting it, wouldn't it, Evans?"

Harry snatched his mug back, sending the plate nearly flying as the two constables grappled over it; it was only Jet's smirk, which Harry caught as he was being dangled by his collar off the edge of the table, that made him give in and disappear back into the kitchen for another mug of coffee. As Harry sat back down, fresh steaming mug in hand, Bridget asked Draco how the food was again, as the original question had been lost in the grappling.

"Excellent." He ate a few more bites, drank some more coffee and then looked to Bridget, who was fiddling with the cup of cocoa in front of her. "Well, I hate to say this, but I got a call from downtown a few moments ago," ("In the loo?") "and I have to go back soon. But," Malfoy's voice took on a triumphant tone, "since Evans here is injured," Harry made a face at him, "he should stay and recuperate." Taking the plate and saying that he'd drop it off at The Bookshop later, Harry's partner opened the front door and let himself out.

"Meaning that I get to do all the paperwork," Harry groaned, poking despondently at the remains of his food. Bridget gave him a sympathetic smile, and Harry remembered how much she would avoid her own paperwork at The Bookshop, usually getting one of her employees to do it for her. It made him feel slightly better.

Kagumi came back in the room with fresh coffee for herself and Harry, looking around. "The coat's gone; did your partner leave?" Harry nodded, taking another bite to prevent himself from saying something stupid.

"Well," she declared, sitting down to finish her French Toast, "he'd better bring my plate back. Or he'll meet the business end of my skillet." Harry snorted briefly into his tea, utterly amused by the idea of Kagumi taking a skillet to Malfoy; it was a desire he could deeply sympathize with.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well there it is, the first full length chapter installment of _Per Vultas Vas_, from here on out known as PVV. (Note: Per Vultas Vas is a rough translation of the phrase Through the Looking Glass. Fitting? We think so.)

Question or comments, feel free to review! Reviews make us feel ultimately guilty, so we write faster. Flames will be used to make more coffee for Draco, thereby avoiding potential disaster and homicide. (After all, we can't afford to bail him out of jail, and Harry refuses to break him out of Azkaban.)

~Gumi

**EDIT:** _Thank you for all the wonderful review we recieved for the first time we posted this. We're sorry to pull the rug out from under you like this, but we figured it would be better to do so early, at this stage, rather than later when everything has really had time to settle. ~Gumi_


	4. 2: Too Close

_**Disclaimer: **__We don't own anything related to Harry Potter, that belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and her cronies. We do own all original characters (mainly Bridget Griffins, Kagumi Pheonix, Raminus Slytherin, and Cordan Gryffindor) as well as all original interpretations of canon and the prose itself.

* * *

_

**Chapter Two: **

Too Close

* * *

"_To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger." –James Baldwin

* * *

_

Harry had never been so glad to be a wizard. Bridget had insisted that he be comfortable, and her flatmate's idea of 'comfortable' involved one blanket, one couch and a seemingly endless variety of movies. Harry was feeling a bit hard pressed to keep his sense of honor intact, seeing as Kagumi (_that _was her name) had nipped out for a bit of shopping with Snuffles, and Bridget had fallen fast asleep halfway through the first movie. Kagumi had had a distinctly evil smirk on her face, not unlike the one Draco wore when he was setting Harry up for something; it was a look that gave him a sinking sensation in the vicinity of his stomach, a sensation of utter and imminent doom.

To make things worse (or better, he wasn't entirely convinced either way), Bridget had curled up around him in her sleep, arms firmly locked around a pillow and legs draped over his lap, and he couldn't move without waking her up. So he'd waited, and waited and waited, until finally, just as he felt that his legs might fall off from being so numb, she shifted. Slightly, but it was enough for him to slide out from under her and get up.

He checked to make sure she hadn't woken up and, after grabbing a quick glass of water, he took out his wand and started waving it in lazy circles, not really looking for anything particular. As the late Albus Dumbledore had once told him, constructing wards was something that could never be completely defined. It required a great deal of effort, a great deal of patience and a large amount of magic; it required more love than anything else, though.

All of those reasons were why Harry was surprised to find a low-level ward already built into the walls. Created by a skilled caster, more likely two, and keyed to the girls actually living there. He smiled half-heartedly; apparently Bridget and her flatmate had a wizard or two for a friend— well, aside from Harry, but they couldn't be as powerful as him.

With his work laid out before him, Harry set about building on the wards already there and visualizing creating actual barriers out of the protection he felt for this one woman. Satisfied that the first step had been taken, he took a deep breath and another sip of water before moving to the next room, which appeared to be Kagumi's.

The humidity hit him first; it felt heavy, and warmer than the time of year should have allowed for. Once the fog on his glasses faded, Harry could see that an ungodly amount of plants lined every available surface. The room itself was simple but elegant, he thought, and it revealed entirely too much about the girl for him to feel even remotely comfortable there.

Her desk was made of what looked like willow, but it was beyond him as to how they had gotten the thin branches mixed in with the wood of the trunk itself. The grain and willow branch patterns formed a neat, complicated Celtic knot pattern and he recalled her lilt from that morning. _I'll have to ask Bridget where she's from,_ he thought. A strange—if amusing—contrast to the almost sturdy, old feel of the desk, instead of a chair, she used one of the blow-up exercise balls Americans seemed in a rush to buy. The closet door was firmly shut, was probably locked, and he didn't want to pry too much; he had the distinct feeling that she'd resort to violence if she found her things disturbed.

The king-sized bed had no frame, but sat on its box springs, which in turn sat on the floor. _So,_ he mused, intrigued, _she won't spring for a frame, but she'll buy a masterworked desk._ The rest of the room was rather sparse, with an armoire which bore the same craftsmanship as the desk and a little bedside table which was battered and dingy. Running along one wall were several game systems, with each console resting on one shelf along with a selection of games, all hooked into a decent-sized telly.

On a stand in the corner was a suit of armor, but he couldn't recognize where he'd seen something like it; it niggled at him, and he just _knew_ it would be one of those things that waited until an ungodly hour of the morning to reveal itself. The other wall was also covered in shelves, but these shelves had things like crystals and fountains, and were smothered with candles and incense. Harry could detect a faint residual magic, which was odd in and of itself, unless the ward-maker had spent a great deal of time in this room. The rest of the walls were hung with thick, ancient-looking tapestries. One was in silver and green, one in fiery colors and one that depicted a crude, if pretty scene. _Looks almost like Stonehenge,_ he mused. Shaking his head, he finished up the third step of the wards, and quickly moved on, glad to be from the room; he still felt like he'd intruded.

Stopping in the loo, he first made sure that Malfoy had been right, and there were no magical Surveillance traces, or scrying spells that he could detect (Malfoy would ever let him live it down if he found out he'd checked). Besides, Harry wasn't sure if even Death Eaters would stoop to putting surveillance on the loo. He considered the fact that there were two very attractive females in the apartment, and decided not to think about it; he was already in enough trouble with his superiors without starting to get angry over (hopefully) nonexistent perverted spies.

With the wards waiting to be activated in every other room, he faltered a bit at Bridget's door, and tried to convince himself that he was doing this for the best. The Gryffindor side of him rebelled a little at entering, uninvited, a woman's room, but the practical side argued that he was only trying to keep her safe and she wasn't even _in _the room. Conscience still grumbling, he pushed the door open and, resisting the urge to keep his eyes shut the entire time, went to work.

At first he'd thought he was having a flashback to the brief time Hermione had lived in her own flat (she'd refused to move in with Ron until they were at least engaged, if not married), then he realized that Hermione would _never _keep have her books in such disarray and that there seemed to be more fiction than non-fiction.

Harry wondered if The Bookshop was just another place for Bridget to keep books, because there wasn't much space left in her room. Bookshelves covered three of the walls, books stacked on every shelf in a very haphazard, almost dangerous way. He grinned in amusement when he saw a little home-made sign, obviously put there as a joke, that read "CAUTION: Watch for Falling Books" in big, bright red letters.

Other than the shelves, there was a desk (also covered with books and a computer) and one of those leather swivel chairs Malfoy had been trying to convince him to get for the office. There was a matching mahogany dresser pushed into her open-doored closet, with a few dresses and formal clothes hung up, and a large, unmade bed with a headboard that seemed to match the desk and dresser pressed against the wall with a window. What he could see of the walls was painted a clean, cream color, with her blankets and curtains in a complimentary dark crimson.

If he had to make a guess, he would say that this was the master bedroom, but with the bookshelves, it seemed smaller, about the same size as Kagumi's. With a deep breath, he gave his wand a peculiar twist and finished up her room wards.

Satisfied that he'd milked his magic for all it was worth, he took a minute to link all of the room wards together, and complete both layers of the warding he'd set up, one with an overall protection, and then one that was tied to each individual room. Feeling rather drained, he started back towards the living room, where— He froze, heart pounding fearfully.

"_James_?" Bridget's voice echoed through the flat, sounding rather panicked. Hastily stowing his wand in his back pocket, lest she see it, he rushed in to find her half-tangled in the warm blanket. He sighed with relief, as her worried brown eyes locked on his and she smiled broadly. An oddly warm feeling settled deep in his chest as she yawned and stretched out the kinks in her shoulders.

"I'm here," he said, sitting back down and letting her throw the blanket over him again. "Everything okay?"

"I was worried," she said sleepily, tucking the blanket up under her chin and cuddling up to him. "I woke up and you had disappeared."

"It's okay, love. I won't leave yet. I've got the whole day off until tonight, and no Ma— Black to bother, so... I've really got nowhere better to be," he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling when she leaned into his touch a bit, drifting back off to sleep with a grin curving her lips. Idly, he wondered how she would react if he were to kiss her... _Best not go there yet, Potter._

_Great, now Malfoy's inside my head _and _my flat.... What next, my be— No, I really don't need that mental image. I'm not going there. Ever. _Harry was well aware of the rumors that had followed their rivalry all throughout their schooling, about the way they fought constantly. And he was well aware that about half the Order thought something very similar, since it wasn't normal for two grown men to share one small flat, not for nearly two years, but it wasn't like that.

At least not from Harry's side. It was more... they'd come to an uneasy agreement, since no one else in the Order could deal with Malfoy. Oh, Hermione had tried, for about a week, but... well, Malfoy still didn't talk to her much, and she'd replaced her curtains three times that week. No one was stupid enough to ask what had gone on there, and neither of them were telling. It was probably better that way.

Since his change of loyalties, few of his former Slytherin friends would put him up either, not even his one-time girlfriend Pansy Parkinson. Only Crabbe and Goyle would meet with him regularly, and they were sharing a flat, so there probably wasn't much room for Malfoy. Even his current girlfriend Astoria Greengrass wouldn't live with him.

Of course, Harry scratched thoughtfully at his chin, that could be because no one knew that they were dating. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't even sure if they were still dating or not; Draco hadn't mentioned her lately. Seemed rather caught up in a friendship with a Muggle he'd developed a while ago, but Harry wasn't really one to pry. He got the impression that it was rather like most of Malfoy's friendships, and would only give him a headache if he tried to decipher it.

Harry was the only one who could terminally deal with Malfoy, and (he shifted subconsciously to let Bridget stretch her legs over his lap a bit more comfortably) his random mood swings— and terminal was indeed a good word to describe it at times. The other Auror was either sarcastic and biting, with a rapier-sharp wit that he never hesitated to use (this was guaranteed early in the day, unless he'd had his dose of caffeine), or he was miserably depressed.

It wasn't really hard to see why he got depressed and defensive often: he had lost most of what he cared about. His mother had died in that last battle at Hogwarts to protect him and Harry, and his father was still very much attached to Voldemort's side. Being an only child, he was pathetically alone, and his Aunt Bella... well, Harry had killed her himself. As for the relative they both shared, Sirius... Harry broke off that line of though.

But lately, it seemed that there was a third side to Malfoy that was coming out more and more. _Who'd ever have guessed, back in school, that Draco Malfoy had this bad habit of randomly being cheerful and prank-happy? Crabbe and Goyle certainly never warned us; just sort of showed up with him on the doorstep and told us that there were others who wanted out as well..._ His mind sinking into memories of the past, Harry drifted off to sleep himself, with Bridget slowly curling around him; as his eyes fluttered closed one last time.

* * *

"Snuffles, dammit, wait a tic!" Kagumi panted, hurrying after the large dog. He was, quite literally, pulling her down the street, and she was using all of her balance to keep herself on her feet, never mind trying to control the dog. "Snuffles! Oh, sorry, love," she called, the man she'd just tripped glaring at her from the sidewalk.

"Okay, this stops NOW!" She yanked on the dog's leash, trying to look stern when he turned to give her a dirty look. "I am the human, here, and that means I decide where we go." He huffed, and started walking again, albeit at a more sedate pace. He almost looked upset. She sighed, and scratched him behind the ears. "Don't give me that, you speed demon. You can't just go tripping people. It's not nice." Snuffles whined pitifully as she entered the store.

"Oh, hey Gumi!" The usual clerk, and owner of the small market, waved.

"Dean!" Kagumi waved brightly, and Snuffles barked.

"Yes, I was getting to that, you glory hound," Dean said, stepping around the counter and petting the huge dog. "Who's a glory hound? You! You're a glory hound! Aww, yes you are!"

"Dean, I'll not have you getting inappropriate with him. Bridget would kill me," Kagumi said, her misty green eyes dancing with laughter. She'd met Dean Thompson the day she moved to London with Bridget, and become his friend the day after. She'd been nearly in tears because she'd forgotten something at her old flat, and his was the only store to have white truffle oil in the brand that she used.

He'd taken her to dinner the next night, and they talked for hours. Nothing much had come of it, but she and Dean made a good team, and good friends. Now, he laughed and held Snuffles' leash for her as she went shopping; there was a stash of his favorite dog biscuits behind the register.

"I'll be right back, Snuff, I've gotta get something for dinner tonight." With a plaintive howl, he tried to follow her until Dean opened a bag of dog biscuits and set it in front of him.

"He's going to be bigger than a house if you keep feeding him like that!" Kagumi called from two shelves over, setting two cartons of fresh eggs in her basket.

"Yeah, but he'll still be cute!" Dean said lazily, scratching the overly-intelligent dog behind the ears, and waiting idly as Kagumi went through her weekly routine.

"Well, then does that mean I'll get a discount for food here, since you're feeding Jet's dog until he grows to the size of a small cow? I refuse to die for your stupidity, Thompson." She grinned triumphantly. "Not without proper compensation, at least."

"Maybe," Dean laughed richly, and started ringing her up as she shopped; after a year, he pretty much had her usual list memorized. "Is that one box or two of hot chocolate?"

"Two. It's always two, you know tha..." she trailed off, looking in the door in the back. Usually it was never open, but today it swung wide, revealing a wide back room, big enough to swallow the store out front twice over with room to spare. "Whoa." The back of the shop looked bigger than the rest of it, and that was impossible, wasn't it? Dean noticed that she was gone, and hurried around the corner, cursing Seamus under his breath for not remembering important things... like the Statute of Secrecy.

"Shiteshiteshiteshite." He muttered a nonsensical word towards the door, and watched her mouth go slightly slack. That gave him a little time, but not much. With a hurried gesture, he shook her shoulder, turning her away from the illusioned room.

"What are you doing?" he asked lightly, relieved that she wasn't harmed.

"I... I'm not sure. Oh!" her green eyes got bigger. "Dean, the back of your shop is bigger than the front!" she pointed.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, love. It's the back, and that means that it's _smaller_ than the front. Here, I'll show you." His dark hand flicked on the light switch, and he prayed with all the fervor he'd ever shown that his Charms skills hadn't gone to waste.

"Oh. But just a few seconds ago it was..." She shook her head rapidly, trying to clear it. "Okay, I guess I'm seeing things," Kagumi said slowly, looking into her basket. "And I'm still not finished shopping." Quickly gathering the rest of the things she needed, she took them up to the register, trying to clear the errant thoughts out of her head.

"Where are you off to after this, love?" Dean's normally cheerful voice sounded a bit strained as he put her groceries into two paper bags.

"I think I'm going to catch a cuppa at the Coffee Pot," his friend's voice was still hazy, but she'd be alright soon. He hoped, anyway; Manda would kill him if he had given Gumi brain damage.

"That sounds good. Tell Manda I said that I'll see her tonight."

"Will do," Kagumi called cheerfully, looping Snuffles' leash around her waist and carrying the two bags of groceries down the street, towards her workplace. As she left, Dean leaned against the door, sighing. He made a mental note to strangle his best mate the very next time he saw him.

"That was too close."

* * *

"Gumi, what are you doing here?" Amanda asked, wiping her sudsy hands on her apron. "It's your day off."

"Yeah, but I couldn't resist the allure of The Coffee Pot." Kagumi cracked up, then winced as Snuffles strained to get inside out of the light rain that had begun to fall. "Ow. Sounds like you've got another date with Dean tonight, Manda."

"Oh really?" Amanda blushed nicely, and lowered her eyes. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, I was just shopping and he told me to tell you that he'll see you tonight." Kagumi smiled evilly, the after-effects of whatever Dean had done to her long gone in the chilly London fog. Amanda continued blushing, and took one of the bags of groceries, setting it on the low counter by the door.

Kagumi sighed with relief, setting the other bag beside it and slipping the dog's leash off her waist (she had to fasten it around her waist; it was the only way the dog wouldn't totally pull her off her feet) and handing it to Amanda. It seemed like all of their friends loved the dog as much as the two caretakers did, and sometimes she suspected they were friends only for the dog's company. Shaking her head, Kagumi started a pot of coffee the way she liked it.

"By the way," Greg called from the register, "Your favorite guy in the world is here."

"I know," Kagumi purred, sliding an arm around Greg's waist and kissing his cheek; Amanda rolled her eyes, smiling. The two of them always played like that, even if Gregory was gayer than a tree of nitrous oxide-hopped monkeys. "I'm looking at him."

"Not me, you twit. Him," Greg jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and Kagumi stood on her tiptoes to see. Sure enough, the blonde git was muttering to himself by the front door, looking around as if panicked.

It surprised her, and gave her a little jolt of satisfaction, to see that perfect hair mussed. Briefly, she imagined running her fingers through that silky mass, and then shook her head; just because she'd finally admitted that there might be something there was no reason to indulge in mindless fantasies.

"Oh, love, he's always here." She dismissed him with a casual wave; over the months, she'd gotten very good at pretending that she wasn't hyper-aware of him.

"You should've heard him talking to Benny," Amanda called from scratching Snuffles' ears, her baby blue eyes glinting. "Gave him right tonguelashing, he did."

"Oh God," Kagumi's voice was obscured by her hand, and she refused to meet any of their eyes. "Do I even want to know what about?"

"Well, you, of course. How he'd come to expect to see you in here, every day, and how it wasn't safe for you to be alone, and all this nonsense.... Sounded like he was really more scared than anything." Amanda turned her blue eyes back towards Kagumi, trying to figure out what was going on without blowing her own cover. "Let's say this, love: he made Benny so angry that Carrie sent him home. Wasn't fit for dealing with customers."

"God, I'm so sorry. But that certainly sounds like him," she muttered, pressing her cool hands to her burning cheeks. Greg removed his arm from her waist, and looked down at her.

"You need to go talk to him," he said, nodding at Amanda, who flanked her. "Now."

"Don't wanna," Kagumi mumbled, as Amanda shoved a tray with two cups of the coffee she'd just made in her hands. "Can't make me."

"Oh really?" Greg's voice was thick was amusement, and he and Amanda shoved her out onto the floor. "We'll take care of Snuff for you," he called out, waving her onwards as she stumbled with the laden tray. _Cheeky bastard of a friend,_ she thought as she silently walked towards the blonde man, who was running his fingers through his hair as though he'd lost something.

* * *

Draco paced by his favorite chair, angry and scared. First Potter had to go and protect his little lovebird, and now his waitress was missing. _His_ waitress! Draco had heard that some of the Death Eaters were upping Muggle capture rates, but here, in London? Without anyone noticing? "Surely not," he muttered, smoothing his fine hair down again.

"Surely not what?" came the soft, lilting voice he'd been hoping to hear that morning.

"There you are!" He whirled around, startling her. She set the tray down and sat in the chair next to him, face blank. "Where have you been?" he asked, a little too harshly.

"Well, love, there are such things as 'days off.' Today was supposed to be mine," she replied mildly, looking at him with interest. "Would you have stayed here until closing if I hadn't shown up?"

He knew his face was a study in worry, and the fact that he was worrying over a Muggle made him wrinkle his nose. _She's not just any Muggle though,_ he decided. _She's... she's the only one in London who can make a decent cup of coffee. _Draco was very specific about his coffee addiction. Only the best.

"No, of course not." Irritated, he sprawled into the plush chair beside her, one hand on his chin. "Still," he said sulkily.

"Coffee?" she asked, holding out a cup to him with the air of one offering the Fountain of Youth.

"No. When you're not here, they can't make it worth a damn." Grinning, she put the mug into his hands and took the other for herself; he stared at her as she crossed her long legs, and one eyebrow rose as he realized just how good they looked, even in jeans.

"But I did make this one," she said. "Fresh out of the pot". Relieved, and feeling somewhat unnerved at said relief, he drank happily at her words, and she tried to ignore the ball of butterflies in her stomach; it felt like they were smoking something of questionable legality.

* * *

Hermione had horrible timing. Harry placed himself in the doorway, blocking her view of his flat. This was all Malfoy's fault; if he hadn't made Snuff trip him, then he wouldn't have had blood all over his shirt and needed to get another one, and he wouldn't have Bridget in his flat when his Hogwarts friends came to visit, since she'd insisted on coming with him to make sure he was all right. "This isn't a good time, Hermione."

"I need you to watch Rose, Har—"

"I have, um—"

She fixed him with a stern stare that made him want to start non-existent homework. "You are her _godfather, _and I know you're off-duty, so don't even think about getting out of it. Penny just called; Avery is trying to get another Muggleborn Restriction Act passed, and I need to get there right now to convince those closed-minded politicians that it really is a ridiculous idea, but Ron's still in Romania with Charlie, and I can't bring her with me."

"Really, this is a very—"

"James?" Harry watched, horrified, as Bridget walked in with his foe glass in hand. Could this really be happening to him; did Irony hate him this much? "What's this?"

"_Harry,_" Hermione breathed, wide-eyed with surprise. A wry, self-satisfied smile worked its way onto her face. "I _knew _you were hiding something from us," she whispered.

"That's an, um, art piece," he told Bridget, turning his back to Hermione and ignoring her. "Drake picked it up one day."

Thankfully, Bridget didn't look up, still frowning down at the glass. "It's kinda cool," she said, entranced by it. Harry suddenly had the urge to see if there were any faces visible to her, but he needed to talk to Hermione before this got any more mucked up. "I think I'll put it back."

"Okay." He watched as she wandered out of the room again, and spun back around. "Seriously, Hermione, I don't really have the time."

"You have a girlfriend?"

Harry flushed red. He hated having to repeat that. "No. She's a friend, from The Bookshop."

"Hm," and Harry knew she didn't believe him. "I'm assuming she's the one you rushed off to check on after yesterday's meeting?"

"Yes." He was digging himself in even deeper; he knew that look on Hermione's face. She used her shoulder to push herself pass him and into the room. "Hermione—"

"What's your coverstory?" she asked, putting the baby bag on his couch and bouncing Rosie in her arms.

"Really, I don't see—"

"Your," Hermione interrupted sternly, "coverstory."

"My name's James Evans," he said in a low voice, quickly realizing that he wasn't going to get her out of his flat in time. She was going to be a great disciplinarian; she _was _a great disciplinarian, which was good because Ron was bound to be a pushover. "She knows I went to a boarding school in Scotland, and about... my issues with my adoptive family. I'm a Detective Inspector, and she thinks that there's some— in her words— "weird cop thing" going on, apparently her father was a police officer in Hawaii and she's used to it, which is worrying enough on its own. She's a Muggle, the one I get your books from. Malfoy's Detective Inspector Drake Black. Also, she's read the books. Good enough?"

"Perfect." Hermione shifted Rose in her arms. "If she's read the books I'll go by Helen Westly until you come clean; Ron and Rose can keep their names."

"I _can't _come clean," he said in furious undertones. "She'll—"

"James?" Harry looked towards the hall entrance, where Bridget had stopped, staring uncertainly at Hermione and Rosie. "Should I... leave?"

"No!" he replied instantly, almost shouting. Bridget gave him a startled look, and Harry could practically feel Hermione's smug smile. He winced. "I mean, no. This is... Helen Westly, and her daughter Rosie. I, uh, went to school with her, and she's married to my best mate."

"Oh."

Bridget gave one of her small smiles, the one that he'd come to realize meant she was uncomfortable, and stepped forward, cautiously making her way to Harry's side. She was standing closer than she normally did, and Harry was finding this shyer side rather adorable. No, he had to focus.

"Helen, this is Bridget Griffins. She's the only one who seems to be able to get your books. Both physically and intellectually; she's explained most of them to me."

"_Oh, _you're _that _friend," Bridget said, smiling fully. She seemed much more relaxed now that they were talking about books; it was a good thing Hermione needed to leave soon. "Your taste in books is really quite excellent. I think I've read every book you asked James to order; my own copy, of course." Her eyes flickered down to Rose, and she took a step closer. "How old is she?"

"Three months." Hermione grinned up at Harry, and he was sure Bridget was too focused on the child to see it. "James here is going to fulfill his duties as godfather and watch her while I take care of an emergency at work. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Bridget said. "I adore babies."

Harry realized that he was now trapped, and, unless he wanted to look like a total prat, he would be babysitting for the foreseeable future. He had no _clue _what to do with babies other than what he learned from the parenting classes he had gone to with Ron (Hermione was very insistent that they be properly trained) and the small amount of time he'd spent with Rosie with Hermione around.

"Well, I must be getting to work now." Hermione shifted Rose into Harry's arms, and gave him what he was sure she thought was a reassuring smile. He was terrified. "Her changing things, milk, and anything else you might need are in the bag; she'll probably want to eat in thirty minutes. I should be back by five." And she was gone.

Rose really was adorable, as much as Harry like teasing Ron about that not being the case. She had the red hair that all Weasleys had (he wondered if any of Hermione's children would get her brown hair) and it was curly, like Mrs. Weasley's or Hermione's. Her face strongly hinted of Hermione, but her eyes and freckles all came from Ron. She moved closer to his chest, and Harry froze, afraid that he'd wake the baby up.

"James, you can relax." Harry looked up from Rose. Bridget was giving him a look that he wanted to call fond amusement, her brown eyes sparkling. "You don't have much experience with children, do you?"

He flushed red. "Not under eleven," he admitted sheepishly.

"Well, you're doing good enough so far. Just relax, babies are good at sensing moods, so she'll be more likely to fuss if you're all tense." She put a hand on his elbow, right above Rosie's head, and he felt the tight muscles relax at her touch. "I called Gumi and told her that I was with you, so she won't worry. If you want, I can stay until Helen gets back."

"That would be _really nice,_" and even Harry could hear the pure relief in his voice.

"All right then. Do you have spare blankets, and maybe a few pillows? We could make a makeshift bed on the floor, so you're not stuck holding her the entire time. Babies this young mostly sleep and eat and do other things that require diaper changes."

"Uh, yeah." He said. "In the spare closet; the door right before the loo."

"Okay. I'll be right back." She started walking towards the hall, but stopped halfway there. "You know you can sit down, right?"

"I'm fine."

Bridget smiled, looking like she was sincerely trying not to laugh. "Okay. Back in a sec."

It must've only been fifteen or so minutes later, but by the time she returned, Harry had lost all feeling in his arms. He had thought he was pretty fit, but he was using muscles he didn't know he had in ways he didn't know was possible. At least Rosie hadn't woken up. With quick, efficient movements, Bridget folded the large blanket into fourths, and, kneeling on the ground, spread it out in front of the couch and put the pillows around the edges.

She stood and motioned for Harry to come closer. "I'm going to take her from you, okay? Just stay still until I have her."

"'Course." Almost self-consciously, Bridget maneuvered her hands under Rose, and there was a moment where they were pressed together with Rosie in between, her arms against his chest, and his arms against her-- and Harry was torn between embarrassment, worry that he was somehow going to damage his goddaughter, and, well, something that wasn't appropriate in front of an infant. Then it was over, and Bridget, with an ease that Harry was jealous of, gently placed the baby in the blanket-crib.

Unsteady from standing in the same position for almost a half-hour, Harry sank onto the couch. Bridget sat next to him. They had approximately eleven minutes of quiet before (in Harry's opinion, and he thought he had a pretty good idea as to what constituted chaos) all hell broke loose. Rosie started wailing with volume that was astonishing from something so small, causing Harry to jump up with his hand on his wand handle before he realized what the noise was coming from; Bridget reacted much more calmly.

She stood and picked Rosie up from the blankets. After cooing a few things at the infant, Rosie almost instantly calmed down, waving her arms at Bridget's finger... dear Merlin.

Harry watched, shocked, as Bridget used one hand to keep Rosie occupied, supporting the infant with the other arm. He'd always been told that you were supposed to use two hands to hold babies, especially when standing, but, when he thought about it, Hermione had used only one at times. Maybe it was a woman thing; Ron was still terrified of dropping his daughter.

"I think she's hungry," Bridget said, sitting back down. "Helen said she'd want feeding in a half-hour, and that was at least forty minutes ago. Can you get one of the bottles from the bag and heat it up? Not too hot, though, just a bit warm. Test a drop on your inner wrist and if it's hot on your skin, then it'd be too hot for the baby."

Harry nodded and fished through the bag for a bottle, thanking Merlin that he hadn't had Bridget look for anything yet; Hermione had charmed the bag to be both lighter and bigger than it really was. Once he located the container (already filled with... er... milk; Hermione was doing everything naturally— which was something Harry really didn't want to dwell on) he went into the kitchen and pulled out his wand to warm the milk. Once he was sure it was warm enough, he tested the liquid.

It seemed warm enough... or cool enough; Harry wasn't sure which. Then again, he could be wrong. When they had dormed together, Ron had always complained about how Harry had liked his showers too hot, and steamed up the room. Maybe his tolerance for heat was higher than was normal.

Harry left the kitchen, intent on figuring out whether he had screwed up or not, but froze in the doorway. Bridget was still on his couch, happily keeping the giggling baby occupied while he got her food, giggling a few times herself. She looked up at the precisely wrong— right?— moment and Harry was rendered momentarily speechless by several, quick realizations.

One: Malfoy was right (in spirit, if not in actual words), and Harry had already fallen for his Muggle bookstore clerk; two: there was no possible way this could end the same way the single, quick relationship he had been in since Ginny (Phoebe had hated the petnames he sometimes called her, and his friends, and his sometimes overwhelming protectiveness and his mood swings, and... well... most things, but it had been her disdain of children that had ultimately killed their relationship); and, three: he was about to do something either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid; he really wasn't sure which.

"Would you like to go out with me?" he asked, before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Bridget gave him a surprised look, her mouth open in a small 'o' as she glanced between him and the baby, which was precisely when Harry realized that most guys wouldn't ask a girl out when she's acting maternal over an infant; most guys got freaked out over the idea of having children; most guys didn't want a family as badly as Harry did; most guys didn't just want to find that one, perfect girl and settle down (just like his mum and dad, who got married at nineteen and had him at twenty-one, but he'd never admit that out loud); most guys have a normal, _safe _life. But, Harry wasn't like most twenty-two year old guys; he'd be the first to admit that. He rather hoped Bridget wasn't like most nineteen year old girls, who would get nervous at such a prospect.

"Yes," she responds, blushing an attractive shade of pink as her entire face lit up. Harry let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, unable to restrain the smile spreading across his face. "I'd like that a lot."

* * *

_His eyes are nice,_ Kagumi thought hazily. _I wish he'd smile more; they crinkle quite nicely, and suit the faint lines around his lips that are so evident when he smiles._ In fact, the sweet, clear eyes burning into hers made her think of crazy things, and she recalled, with vivid clarity, that Bridget had often accused her of being obsessed. She frowned; actually, _everyone_ accused her of being obsessed. Maybe it was time to look into those accusations...

"Now what's got such beautiful lips pouting like that?" his smooth voice asked. Draco reflected on his waitress as he took another sip of coffee, watching as her cheeks began to burn in the misty light filtering in from the street. She rearranged her shapely legs uncomfortably, and his eyes lingered on them more than necessary.

"Nothing," she replied quickly, draining her cup; unsure why, or how, but something in the atmosphere of the Coffee Pot, or something about the newly-minted feel of the day, or maybe the mint she always used in their coffee made her feel, for a moment, a little too close to this man whose name she didn't even know. The Coffee Pot was nearly empty, and in the hazy light, the way she could hear his breathing in the quiet, it was nearly too intimate. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

_Her hair is down today,_ he thought idly; _it makes her look older, more dignified._ He watched her surreptitiously watching him, and felt the familiar swooping of his stomach. The girl's eyes crinkled at the corner and she wrinkled her nose at him; it was easy to laugh with her, Draco reflected. Much easier than it was with Potter.

Potter was amusing to make fun of, because he became such easy prey with his faltering and his blushing, but this one... Draco wasn't sure yet, but there was something strange about her. She made life fun, somehow, was able to take his mind far away from The War, and far away from everything and everyone else. It was a joy to be able to have that balm, even though each time he saw her, he swore it would be the last. No matter how many times Potter accused him of being heartless, he _did_ care about her, in ways that were probably unhealthy to his joke of a relationship with Astoria, and he was terrified that just by him being a patron, he'd bring the War crashing down on her little Irish head.

It was a double edged sword, really: if he stopped seeing her, to stop the War from messing her about, there was a chance that she would _still_ get in trouble. And he dreaded to think of what could happen to a Muggle in a Magical War with no wizard to protect her. So he kept coming back, strictly to make sure that The War hadn't found her _just_ yet.

Or at least, that's how he justified it. That and the coffee.

_Why is he looking at me like that?_ Kagumi wondered fretfully, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers. He followed the strand's path with his cool eyes, down her arm and back up to her face. She watched his eyes trailing down her face, looking very much as though his fingers would follow, when she looked down.

"I'm out of coffee," she whispered, taking both cups. "Would you like some more?"

"Yeah," he said softly, following the sway of her hips as she disappeared behind the counter. "I _would_ like that..."

* * *

_Oh, God,_ Kagumi thought, leaning her burning face against the cold metal of the cooler. _He affects me entirely too much..._

"Pence for your thoughts?" Amanda's voice asked.

"They're too strong for a pence, you'd be getting a steal," Kagumi replied, not lifting her eyes.

"Tell me anyway; you look like you stumbled onto two people doing more than making out in the back row of a cinema."

"I've been talking to him, and I think..." Kagumi looked at her friends, who were leaning on each other, and looking very concerned. "I think you guys are right: I can't stop thinking about him." Disgusted with herself, she began refilling their cups, pointedly ignoring the hushed huzzahs in the background. "You two don't have to gloat, you know. It's very immature," she tossed towards the two workers, who were not-so-secretly high-fiving each other now.

"Manda, you still got any of that pretty paper back here?" she asked, heading back towards the desk. Amanda followed her quickly, nervously, and watched as her slightly-more-than ordinary friend dug through Amanda's desk. Thankfully, Amanda saw what she was looking for roll out of the girl's way as she pulled out a piece of light blue paper, and wrote something on it in her small, corsiva script.

"What are you doing, love?" Greg asked, putting on his coat to leave; Kagumi realized belatedly that he must've reached the end of his shift and was getting ready to go home to his boyfriend.

"I'm about to do something that will either make me very happy, or very miserable… incredibly brilliant, or incredibly stupid; I'm just not sure which," Kagumi replied evenly, taping the small piece of paper to the underside of the man's cup. With one last calming breath, she put the cups back on the tray and returned to their small table.

"There you are," he said, his head titling back and revealing his pale throat; his eyes were closed, and she could just see the beginning of his collarbones underneath the top two buttons, which were...

_Oh, my__…_ It took an act of will not to lick her lips and her thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt as she saw what he'd done while she was gone: the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, and the overall effect made her knees tremble. The sight of his light, soft-looking skin pulsing right at the hollow of his throat mesmerized her, and it wasn't a feeling she was used to. Hands shaking, she set the softly clinking tray down on the small table and swallowed with difficulty; it seemed that her mouth had suddenly turned into the driest desert in the world.

"Sleeping on the job? And what if I'd been some horrible enemy of yours, eh?" Kagumi smiled uneasily as he cracked one narrow eye open at her in bemusement. "It could happen," she said defensively, sipping on her coffee. Talking was helping, so long as she kept her gaze away from that seductively undone shirt. His one-eyed gaze turned to the steaming coffee waiting to be drunk, and then shut again, waiting and biding time.

* * *

Draco was very observant, he'd be proud to have you know. In the hour that they'd been talking, the girl had shifted closer, settling herself against the arm of the sofa-like seat, and she was getting progressively more spirited, and apparently more bold. He'd felt the disturbance in the air as the girl reached out to touch him (not that he could blame her; he _was_ perfect after all) and pull back several times; he wondered if she knew what she was doing.

"I don't bite you know," he said softly, feeling the breeze of her fingertips. "Unless you want me to."

"What if I do want you to?" she asked, not caring that she was knee deep and sinking fast. He liked the way her voice was huskier than normal; it made him shift his body, hands clenched slightly. If he wasn't careful, he would succumb to the temptation to trace her hair's earlier path and find out if that skin was as smooth as it looked.

"Well, of course you want me to. I am a sex god," he said, and she wasn't sure if he was joking or not. The line sounded like something from a movie, but then again, it could have been his ego. It certainly sounded like an invitation, and she wasn't sure if she would resist. If she even _could_ resist.

_He is entirely too __attractive for his own personal safety; if he's not careful, someone __will __ravish him on the street,_ she decided. Kagumi's face burned bright with his statement. _And it's more than looks; it's his entire demeanor. From the way he carries himself to the sparkle in his eyes when he laughs. _Feeling more than flustered, she extended her arm and ran one fingertip down his cheek. His skin was soft, and warm, and her breath sped up just a bit as he turned his head and caught her fingertip gently between his teeth; she shivered. _If I'm going down, might as well break all the rules I can..._

As she pulled her arm back, checking the time seemed like a good idea; after all, it was her turn to cook dinner tonight, and even though Bridget had called, it was always better to get things ready, not to mention that it gave her a reason not to look him in the eyes just yet.

"Bloody hell," she stood rapidly, pulling her leather jacket off her chair. Draco's body, which had been relaxed, tensed as he watched her prepare; the note of mild panic in her voice set him off, and he found himself sitting up suddenly.

"What?" he asked, keeping his voice calm while his eyes roamed the store, looking for whatever had distressed her; he tried to ignore the part of him that suggested ripping offenders in twain with his bare hands.

"I've got to get home. I've spent nearly three hours here."

With a pointed look at his coffee, she waggled her fingers in farewell as she quickly disappeared behind the employee's partition in the kitchen. Two minutes later, he heard the back door open and close again, and sighed, already worried that some Dark idiot would pick his Muggle up on her way home. To settle his nerves, he picked up his coffee, finally, and took a long sip, savoring the rich chocolate and mint flavors mixing, just the way she always made it.

* * *

It had been pure coincidence that he'd stumbled into The Coffee Pot, about eight months ago. He and Potter had been scouting for likely resistance cells in London, and had stopped around The Bookshop's area, in case Death Eaters were considering it. Potter had stopped to talk to his lovebird, and Draco'd been bored. Really bored. And cold. It was unseemly for a Malfoy to be both cold and bored. And tired. Cold, bored _and_ tired was just plain wrong.

Since Potter had been so wrapped up in talking to the bookstore clerk, and forgotten that he'd set Draco out on watch, Draco had left. He wasn't proud of it, but he'd lost his temper and just gone to find somewhere to get warm. After stumbling around a bit on icicle-legs, he'd found the little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, with the snappy waitress and chairs so comfortable it ought to be illegal.

Their first encounter had very nearly resulted in violence. And some days, he was still fairly sure she wanted to deck him. But somewhere, somewhere along the way, the bickering and snarky verbal jousting matches had turned into something else. She started smiling at him, and he couldn't erase her from his thoughts. They still argued; he didn't think anything could change that. The arguing was a thing of familiarity, something to hold onto when nothing else seemed to go right. And he secretly loved that, even when they'd first met, she could match him in an argument without backing down, and had kept that trait.

It had been eight long, grueling months, he reflected, and he'd almost never left. Six out of seven days were spent here, wasting his Muggle money on the best coffee in London, and slowly getting to know a waitress that he wasn't even supposed to know existed. His entire personality had changed, with his newfound love for and addiction to coffee of any sort, so long as it was painfully sweet, and Astoria hadn't been exactly understanding about it; the long arguments about where he spent the hours off-duty were exhausting to even think about. Depression setting in, he sighed, and wrapped his long fingers around the mug, his favorite. It was dark green, and glazed with a pattern that made the scoring look like scales. He wondered how she remembered such small things so easily; he supposed it was part of her effortless charm.

His fingers brushed the bottom of the cup, and he frowned, pulling the paper off. "What the hell?" he muttered, unfolding the pale blue paper and reading over the elegant-looking script. It was a bunch of numbers. "Heh," he smirked, taking another drink of the coffee. _She gave me her 'number'. I'm pretty sure that Potter said that was a Muggle way of saying she likes me. Of course the prat conveniently forgot that when he gave that clerk _his_ number._ He tucked the little piece of paper into his pocket, and strolled out the door, whistling to himself, occasionally brushing a finger against the paper as if to reassure himself that it was really there.

Amanda watched him go from the cameras in the back room, and shook her head. "Who'd ever have guessed?"

* * *

**Authors Notes:**_ Okay guys, we've caught up just a bit on our ENORMOUS workload. Biddy's got her stuff, I've got my stuff, and God help us all, we've both got stuff together. And it seemed like…we keep adding to it, some how._

_Anyway, I may have just gotten a new (writing) job, so updates are going to be a little…wackier. As if they weren't wacky enough, I can already see you fans shaking your heads, I know. So PVV is usually going to be ten days behind a DIN update, and as we updated DIN ten days ago, it's time for PVV. Enjoy the easy pace on this chapter: next one is when more action kicks in._

_Thanks to all those who reviewed and added us to favorites or alerts! We love you all._

_~Kagumi

* * *

_

**Edit Note:** Sorry, guys, but the bit about Draco and Gumi's first meeting has been cut out and modified. Blame the one-shot spree that we've been on. It's still good, but now you have a full scene instead of an actual recollection, and we'll be posting that as soon as we get the latest PVV out to you.

~Gumi


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